A Mother's Nature
by Almadynis Rayne
Summary: Changed against her will, Rachel is taken in by a yautja clan as one of the lowest-status females: taking care of pups. But, however much she is a wallflower in most situations, Rachel's nature becomes apparent quickly. How will the Predators react to a true mother?


**A Mother's Nature**

**Prologue**

Almadynis

**AN:** This story is based on/inspired by the world of "Chosen" by Stupe with her full permission. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it.

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All kids are now taught the basics of what happened a generation ago. Her parents had been alive when it happened and told her the stories of the beginning.

Around seventy years ago Earth finally found out the answer to what most scientists considered a 'big' question: is there life beyond our planet? It was a rather spectacular entrance according to her father, ships suddenly appearing in the sky and taking over the radio and television stations all at once.

What started it goes something like this:

Once upon a time, there was a race of aliens, called the _yautja_, that liked to hunt all the time, including humans. They made sure that the races they hunted never really found out about them other than vague rumors until—horror of horrors—a virus or disease (no one really knows for sure) wiped out all of their females. Threatened with extinction, this alien race's scientists banded together in search of a way to continue their people. The answer was in the human's DNA. Of all the alien races that they had hunted, humans were the only ones that were even close to their own genome. The scientists figured out a way to change human females genetic makeup so that they could carry yautja offspring.

Thus the yautja leaders decided to be benevolent overlords of Earth in order to secure, pursue, and mate with human females. In return, they promised not to exterminate humans.

The End.

Well, not quite. The human governments got together and created laws to make sure that they were not exterminated. Each town had at least one female police officer to 'facilitate' yautja courtships—that is, they calmed down the women to only slightly-hysterical, coached them on what not to do, and made sure that the rest of the town knew to stay the hell out of the way.

Basically, humans tolerate the yautja because we would die a quick death if we didn't—sometimes that yautja actually do destroy a town or county because of 'disrespect' or other some such. Personally, I wouldn't mind so much as I consider it a Darwin Award, but I know innocents are killed too when that happens. It just is what it is these days.

My parents, and especially my father, made sure that I knew what to do and what not to do to get yautja attention. Or at least, he tried. Alien race…not so much with knowing how they think. But Dad knew how soldiers thought since he had been in the military, and both my parents were extremely practical. So, Dad did what soldiers do: he watched, observed and drew conclusions.

I thought this training from my parents gave me a leg up from everyone else—if you want to know why I didn't tell anyone, I did…but most didn't believe me or started accusing me of being an 'alien-lover'. The reality of exactly what my parents taught me didn't come until years later.

-AMN-

Ray graduated with an MS in Applied Math at the age of 25 and was one of the lucky ones to get a job right out of college with an engineering firm. Her job was to go over and double-check the equations of the people who came up with the new-fangled doohickeys. She was very low on the totem pole, but the pay was excellent.

By 27, she had made an impression by keeping a clear head in emergencies—several of them—and was promoted to Head of the Double-Checkers, overseeing five other right-out-of-college double-checkers and got the grand extra job of triple-checking. She was also in charge of keeping up-to-date on new-found math formulas and new-fangled doohickeys and how they worked so that the double- and triple-checking was as accurate as possible.

A conference in another state was the cause of Ray's current hell of over-heated, over-crowded, loud, smelly, and all around generally unpleasant bus ride. A four-state over ride approximated around 12-14 hours in a tightly packed vehicle; she had never been a chipper person without a good eight hours of sleep and she couldn't sleep like this. Ray was cranky, groggy, and after nine hours really couldn't give a damn anymore.

It was the only excuse she could think of that explained her next extremely blurry memory/dream, full of jumps in time and vague shapes.

A group of three yautja appearing on the full moon lighted country dessert road—_skip_—the bus stopping, the driver and the coordinator for her department…was his name Jake?...moving to speak with the yautja—_skip_—a blast of green light, the bus exploding—_skip_—a big, dark green hand coming toward her—_skip_—dessert landscape rushing beneath her, making her even more dizzy—_skip_—a prick in her arm—

God only knew what they dosed her with. Maybe it erased short term memory along with rendering the victim unconscious.

Ray blinked open her unremarkable blue eyes to view a metallic-gray wall. Soft sobbing was coming from behind her and Ray realized she was laying on her side. Rolling over was a profound accomplishment, made even more grand by her refusal to empty her stomach as the desire was overwhelming. "Whaaa?" her articulate question broke up the crying.

"Rachel? Is—is that you?" It was understandable, it was very dark in the room. Barely enough light to move around without hurting oneself.

"Yeah, Sarah. It's me. How you doin'?" Ray cleared her throat before coughing enough that her number-one double-checker patted her back in sympathy.

"We're okay so far. Armstrong has a bad scratch on one arm, and Lily thinks her ankle is twisted, but that's the worst of it." Sarah replied softly. Ray continued to breathe evenly as she thought. Jessica Armstrong was an engineer, and Lily Taylor was in human resources. As Ray looked around, she saw that the crying was from Geraldine Hunter, a twenty-something junior physicist. Geraldine had gotten on the trip purely by dumb luck; her immediate boss had gotten the flu immediately prior. The last of the group, also female, Ray thought was a head-hunter for the company, she was going to the conference to find potential employees: Ebony Conners. The only one Ray knew personally was her red headed strictly-professional friend Sarah.

Ray tried to widen her eyes to let in more light as she continued looking around the room in which she found herself captive. All walls, ceiling, and floor were the same metallic gray, but didn't feel like any metal she was familiar with. A depression to the right looked about right for a door, but more like those sliding doors in some fancy buildings. A panel was beside it, glowing a very soft yellow, giving a little more light to the depressing room. Nothing else. Not that she could see.

"Does anyone have a better idea of what happened than I do?" Ray asked the room.

It was Ebony that answered. Her voice was very firm, but a bit hollow. "We are being held on a yautja ship with a crew of at least four. Youngbloods fired on the bus, killing about half. The rest of us were divided into three groups: women, young men, and old men. Most injuries were from the explosion or fighting." Her eyes never left the floor.

The head of human resources, who worked closely with public relations, spoke next. "You saw four? I only got three."

"One had to be flying the ship."

Lily nodded her understanding. "That still means no Master in the group. Soomething is wrong—" she was cut off by Geraldine.

"Of course something is wrong!" Geraldine yelling, half in hysterics. "We have been kidnapped by aliens that can kill us with their thumbs! We are being shipped off to be raped and have their hellspawn abominations!" Her voice got shriller with each word.

Not helping, Ray thought as the lights suddenly brightened and in came a yautja. He was around six and a half feet tall, much tall than her, with gray-green skin and black mottling everywhere. If Ray didn't know any better, she would say he looked hesitant and apologetic as he stepping into the room. His dreadlock tresses had only the one silver ornament all yautja seemed to share. And in his hand were six syringes.

Geraldine scrambled back on her hands and feet in a position that reminded Ray of middle school, that crab-like walk you only ever use in gym class. Terror made the girl move quick though. Her gym teacher would have been proud. The poor girl didn't stop moving until she hit the far corner, even going over Lily and Ebony to do so, cowering as far away from him as she could.

The other women moved out of his way, to the nearest wall. Ray, her spot a little off-center stayed as she was, just watching him. His head was slightly bowed and it wasn't do to the ceiling. The room was yautja-sized. Actually, he was a bit short for the room, a good two feet or so between his head and the top of the door. Lily was right, something was wrong with this whole situation.

Ray spoke quietly, as non-threatening as she could. "I don't remember kidnapping as part of the courtship ritual I was taught in school." She saw him flinch slightly. "Would you please tell us where we are going?" Years of Southern Manners her mother drilled into her head came back strong.

The yautja started around the room, one injection to each woman. Only Geraldine fought, wildly with teeth and nails. To his credit, he never hurt her, just used one arm to pull her around and the other to inject her, letting go immediately after. He never looked any of them in the eye. It was only as he left that he answered Ray's question. One gruff, oddly sad-sounding word that made no sense to her but Lily inhaled sharply.

Immediately after he left, Ray looked at the HR rep, "What did he say?"

Her suddenly terrified emerald-green eyes met Ray's.

"Pain."

-AMN-

The few seconds before the yautja proved truthful was spent wondering why they had all been injected with the glowing neon green liquid and what the placement could possibly mean. Every single one of them had been man…err…yautja-handled with a poke to the midriff and the needle stuck between his fingers into their skin. Another point to the yautja was that he did all the yautja-handling with relative gentleness—Ray knew he could have pressed much, much harder—and the injection was quick and the almost completely pain-free.

The first sensation Ray got was of cold, but since the room they were held in was only around 60° Fahrenheit, she didn't think much of it at first. But the cold seeped into her belly, then her limbs; moving as fast as blood can so that in about seven minutes she was even colder than she had ever been in her life. And it kept getting worse.

Ice began to eat at her. She could imagine it spreading finger-like across her intestines, liver, and up into her lungs and heart. Stabbing her all over from the inside out. There was no way you could have made her stay upright.

All six women were experiencing the same thing; this terrible iciness so cold and painful they all were curled up on the floor, eyes tightly shut against the frost. None of them were aware enough to notice the temperature of the room increase; the chill running through their veins unrelenting even as the room reached almost 90°F. A small gesture trying to help lost in a frozen world.

Then came a heat in their midsections. Hot and cold began to battle for the souls of six women. Fire against ice.

Time lost all meaning for Ray. Eventually, the lava in her veins won the war and she noticed the sweltering heat of the room. She yelled incoherently in desperation for relief.

Sometime, Ray wasn't sure when exactly, or even approximately, began the torrent of nightmares. Childhood bullies beating her, punching her and kicking her stomach over and over. No teacher around to save her, defensive curling useless, and retreat impossible. Only able to endure as much as she could.

A brief respite as she caught sight of a blurred-out yautja face so close, yet she was too worn out to react. Hands carrying her, and she could see Sarah's fire-red hair swaying ahead of her in the arms of another yautja. Blue eyes peered around the fog and heat, up into the forest green skinned, mottled with a dark red and navy, yautja that carried her.

He was older than the others she had seen, much older. His dreadlocks were covered in ornaments of all colors, so many that each step made them jingle softly. She bet he knew how to walk without making a single sound, even with them. Ray idly noticed he seemed to be in a hurry, based on the speed at which the lights were moving above her, but he never ran and his facial expression didn't change. He almost reminded her of her father; his eyes were full of thoughts and memories. And when he caught her looking up at him, she could see him shove the angry thoughts away so that he could give her a semi-encouraging smile. She didn't recognize her voice, though she knew she asked, "Is it over?" a little girl's question, but she couldn't help it. She felt small and helpless, unable to defend herself.

A soft, deep bass vibrated against her side as he spoke. "_Sei-i._ Yes, soon. Keep fighting, little one." Each word separate, but complete and recognizable, even in her fire-haze. "_Dtai'k-de, yeyinde. _Fight._ Dtai'k-de._"

Ray thought he could only be referring to the bullies and whimpered in pain and fear. She only drifted again, but could vaguely hear a deep voice saying that fear was only in the mind. The voice became her father's, telling her that pain was the body's way of telling you 'don't do that!' Ambiguous feelings of hands, beeping, prodding, and yelling. She thought she might have been doing the yelling, but she wasn't sure.

Then everything went blissfully silent and the pain stopped. Ray looked around and grinned. She was a little girl again, no more than six, and she was in her grandparents' house. Her Papaw was mere feet from her, grinning fully and gesturing to come closer. She wondered briefly at that before she grinned so wide and rushed to climb in his lap, ignoring the odd sight, cuddling close. She wondered at the absent sounds of Mamaw in the kitchen. "I'm missed you so much!" He hugged her gently, but firmly as he always did, with both arms. She wondered at that as well. Papaw didn't use his left arm. He never did. And he never smiled with both sides of his mouth. "Where's Mamaw? She's here too, isn't she?" Then out of the corner of her eye she saw her maternal grandmother and a man she didn't recognize, but she knew his smile. "Grandma Mary? Grandpa Jo?" her mother's parents...but that wasn't right either.

A powerful, loud booming voice echoed throughout her grandparents' home. "_Dtai'k-de! _It is not real, young one! Fight! Do not give up! _**Dtai'k-de!**_"

The shout somehow made her twenty-seven again and she now stood before her Papaw, dead for 19 years. He had held on through four strokes before the last got him. Her mother's father had died before her birth, and Grandma Mary when she was 12. _It's not real._ The thought echoed in her mind, over and over. Hot, wet tears fell. "I'm sorry. I can't stay. I miss you." She turned toward the front door. Even as she walked the incredibly short distance, it seemed forever as she heard her parents return her heartfelt declaration. It was only the mental assurance that it couldn't possibly be that made her feet keep going. "I love you. So much…but you aren't real."

If it had taken another step, she wouldn't have made it. Her heart hurt so much, her head achy from tears.

Her world went black.

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_Well? What do you think? Please review!_


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